• Mood: crushed

When did my life become a country-western song?

If my husband could go ahead and buy a red sports car and flirt with his secretary so we can knock this flippin' mid-life crisis out of the way, that would be super keen with me. He sounded shocked (shocked!) that his mother's third bout of cancer (not currently going well) his job path being set in stone now, his son having Asperger's, his beloved cat dying, and his just turning 40 and acquiring man boobs would have anything to do with his current bout of malaise and sorrow, all of which have been directed at me in the form of eye rolling, huffing and puffing, and outrageous out of nowhere arguments about nothing. True fact: the argument I hate more than any is the one that stems from "Yes, I know you said that, but I thought you said this." "Well, I didn't." "Right, but I thought you said..." AUGH!!!! Shut up shut up shut up!!

Yeah, I'm kinda busy here dealing with all of that, too, not to mention the running of a house, trying not to drown our teens when they act like teens, cleaning up dog and cat poop, canning 58 pounds of peaches so they don't rot, handling all of the upcoming school changes, and keeping everyone from the "I'm bored" crap that comes with summer while you, dear husband, travel and live in hotels with room service and housekeeping.

Oh, and then there's the mistake I made of googling my newly released movie and finding all of the bad reviews (there are good ones, too) that mention the "bad supporting actors" that were "over the top" [and I wonder, what the hell did you think you were getting, a Zeffirelli?] the lack of call backs on the acting front (making me think there's something to those reviews) the lack of any advancement on the writing front (and the lack of ambition on my part because of lack of blah blah blah) the posts and comments hither and yon (and in my own lj) expressing hatred for me because I dare to talk about my extreme dislike of Twilight and why I'm a stupid, horrible, angry person with too much time on their hands.

To which I give a resounding, hearty laugh, because where the hell is this extra time, because I could use it!?!

Bad day. Bad series of non-stop crazy days. I'm not even going to go into all the wank online, because I'm avoiding that crap like a zombie with a hunger for my brains. And the first person that tells me to "just breathe" gets my foot in their throat meat. (I cannot STAND that trite saying, for the record. Hate that like I hate sparklepires.) I just need to vent, guys.

I feel that some decadent cookies are in order today, and the house can just clean itself. And if my dog loses a leg and my truck gets stolen, I'm moving into a cardboard box in the mountains, I'm just saying.